The Beacon
by Degonda
Summary: Sam finds out Dean didn't tell him the whole truth. In the end, will Dean save him or hunt him? Which will Sam want him to do?
1. Chapter 1

**The Beacon**

Summary: Sam finally discovers the demon's plans. In the end, will Dean save him or hunt him?

Disclaimer: If I actually got sued over this story, then something is very wrong with the world. It's Kripke's sandbox; I'm just borrowing some of the toys. I'll put them right back, I promise.

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Rain streaked down the Impala's windshield, blurring the road for a moment before the wipers cleared them. Dean stared out onto the dark road, his jaw set firm. His hand clenched the steering wheel in frustration, but only enough to take some of it his tension out of his body. He couldn't let Sam see how upset he was. He couldn't let Sam know how much this last hunt had gotten to him. The brothers sat in silence, the engine's low growl giving Dean the calming effect he so needed. The hunter glanced to his right, taking in his brother's throbbing throat and shiny eyes.

"Sam, we did the best we could. We just got there too late."

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. "Dean, don't. Not right now."

The older brother shook his head, clicking his tongue. "No Sam. We are going to talk about this. Cause otherwise you are just going to let it simmer inside you, taking all the blame."

Without warning, Sam slammed his hand into the dashboard with a yell. "It is my fault Dean! I had the vision. I saw the demon by the baby's crib and I saw the mother die. We could have saved her if I hadn't decided it would be a good time to head south again. We could have been one state away instead of five! Somehow, I don't see you anywhere in that equation."

"Oh, so because you made the decision to go left instead of right without any knowledge you would get this vision a whole week later, it's your fault?"

Sam nodded, turning his head to look out his window, signaling what he thought was the end of the conversation.

"Sam, I've been to farms with less bullshit than that." Sam sat, refusing to look at his brother. "Look. Sometimes we don't win. Sometimes, we don't get there in time to save them. I know it sucks. Especially when it has to do with that yellow eyed bastard. But you gotta let it go, man. The father got out. The baby is safe. That has to count for something."

A moment passed before Sam replied. He spoke so softly, Dean had to strain his ears to understand. "The mother died on the ceiling because of that demon. The baby is going to grow up and get some psychic power like all the children do. She shouldn't have to deal with that."

Dean gave a nonchalant shrug. "You turned out okay. Even if you are a freak."

"Yeah." Sam whispered. "But not by much."

Dean stared at his brother. It took him a moment to realize Sam hadn't been acting all moody for the past hour over the mother dying. He was upset the child would grow up with a power. She would grow up like he did.

Dean let out a sigh. _Damn you, Dad. Why did you have to leave me with this kind of shit weight on my shoulders?_ He glanced again at his brother, giving a half frown at how Sam slouched against the door, obviously in pain and just as obviously trying to hide it. Mental pain was one thing; Sam was the king of PMS moody when he got his head wrapped around something. But physical pain was never something Sam hid well, especially when the hunter had years experience watching his brother try.

Dean's mind flashed to earlier that night. He and Sam had raced all day to get to the house Sam had seen in his vision. As they approached the community, they could smell the smoke and Dean knew they were too late. What Dean hadn't expected was for Sam to jump out of the car as soon as it slowed down and race into the burning house. Cursing his brother's long legs, Dean had gotten as far as the front door when Sam came running out again, seemingly free of injury, and pushing a man in front of him. A glance at the man told Dean this was the husband and the baby in his arms was the latest victim of the demon. The young hunters hadn't stayed long after that, knowing there wasn't anything they could do. The demon had already gone, taking the mother with it in a fiery blaze. Other than that knowledge weighing on Sam's consciousness, he had seemed fine for the past hour. Or at least that's what Dean had thought.

Slowly, he reached out a hand and put it on Sam's trembling shoulder. "Dude, are you hurt?"

Sam turned his head and gave a small grin. "Na, just a scratch, man." It was then Dean noticed the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, a tell-tale sign of Sam not only in pain, but more than just a scratch kind of injury.

At that moment, a 24-hour motel came up on the road side. Dean pulled the car over, marveling over his own sense of good timing. Turning the engine off, he turned in his seat. "Let me see."

"No, dude. I'm fine. I'm not even bleeding."

Frustrated by his brother's childishness, Dean threw his hands up. "Alright. If it's just a scratch, you get the bags and I'll check us in." With a smile, Dean hopped out of the car and strode over to the desk. Glancing back after a moment as the manager got the room key, he saw with a satisfied smile that while Sam had gotten the bags out, he was still standing by the Impala, obviously not able to carry them inside. Thanking the manager quickly, Dean strode out, tilting his head in a mock questioningly way.

Sam rolled his eyes and started walking to the room. Dean grabbed the bags, throwing them onto the beds as soon as they got into the room. Sam laid down on one, ready to collapse, but intent on staying awake until later. Opening his eyes, he found Dean looming over him, his arms crossed. "What?" Sam asked innocently. Dean stared, giving his best scowl. Realizing he wasn't fooling anyone, Sam let out a sigh and held out his right arm.

Dean's breath caught in his chest. With a growl that sounded an awful lot like "Damn it, Sammy", Dean gently grabbed his brother's wrist. Across Sam's forearm was a red, mean looking welt. It looked tight and extremely painful. Dean pulled out their first-aid kit, locating the burn ointment quickly and generously slopped it on. If there was anything Dean Winchester did not fool around with, it was burns. Sam grimaced as the cold contact burned. "It was a falling bit of ceiling, that's all."

Finally finding his voice, Dean began to wrap his brother's arm. "Sam, you get hurt, you tell me damn it. What if this had gotten infected?"

Sam shrugged. "Dean, it's not even a second degree burn. Barely a first. We've both had worse and I didn't want you to worry. I was going to get it cleaned up after you fell asleep."

"Worry?" Dean nearly shouted, pulling the bandage tight enough to make Sam hiss. "It's my job to worry about you. You're my brother. I'm going to worry about you and protect you until the day I die." Dean gave the bandage an extra tug for emphasis. He looked into Sam's eyes, making sure he was listening. "And I'll kick anyone's or anything's ass between then and now that tries to hurt you. So you pull this 'hiding the wound' shit one more time, I'm going to have to kick my own ass, cause I'll kill you myself. It might be an interesting show, but I would still knock some sense into you. You got that?"

A grin broke across Sam's face. "That was mighty close to a chick flick moment there, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes, taping the last of the bandage down. "Bite me." He stood, gathering the medical items together as Sam pulled his shirt down.

"Hey Dean?" He turned back to his brother, taking in the thoughtful, worried look. _Oh great. There should be an Olympic sport for speed of mood changes. Sam would get the gold every time._ "Why do you think the demon went after that family?"

Dean shrugged, snapping the first-aid kit closed and shoved it back into his bag. He paused, carefully choosing his words. "I don't know. Why does the demon go after any of the families?"

"Do you… do you think Dad knew why? I mean… before he died. He knew a lot about that demon. Maybe he didn't want us to know something, but meant to tell us later after we killed it. But then he… well, you know."

Dean ran his hands thru his hair, shifting on his feet. "I… I think Dad said everything he knew." Sam nodded, satisfied with that answer. Dean turned with a snap to the bathroom, throwing his head over his shoulder. "I'm gonna take a shower. Get some sleep."

Closing the door before Sam could reply, the young hunter sat heavily on the floor. He pressed his head into his hands, waiting until he saw red dots before letting go. He could practically feel his thoughts running around his mind. _I promised, I promised myself I wouldn't lie to Sammy anymore. But that wasn't a lie. I just did a bit of Obi-Waning._ With a sigh, Dean pushed himself up and turned on the shower, knowing Sam would be waiting for that sound and would know something was wrong if it didn't come soon. Stepping under the hot water, Dean gave a loud sigh. He pressed his hands against the wall, feeling the water fall down his muscled back. _I gotta tell him. I have to tell Sam the truth. It's getting too dangerous. I can't… I can't deal with this alone anymore. _Dean let out another sigh._ Tonight. I'll tell him tonight. And he'll hate me._ Dean scrubbed his face, convincing himself the only water running down his cheeks was from the showerhead.

10 minutes later found Dean walking out of the bathroom, towel pulled around his waist. He walked quickly across the room, staring straight ahead. He sat on his bed and took a deep breath before turning to his brother.

"Look, Sam. Dad –" Quickly Dean cut himself off. The peaceful face of Sam looked up at him, dead to the world, having fallen asleep in the exact same position Dean had left him in. The brother smiled, privately grateful for the obstacle. He let out a breath and felt his muscles relax. One more night without tackling that issue.

Slipping on a clean pair of boxers, Dean lowered himself into the other bed and pulled the covers over himself. As his eyes drifted closed, he gave a small smile. _I'll tell him in the morning. First thing._

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Sunlight pierced Dean's eyes, forcing the young hunter out of his deep sleep. With a groan, he opened his eyes, rubbing the sandman's dust from the corners. With a sharp intake of breath, he quickly shut them and opened them again, certain he was still dreaming. He sat straight up, taking in the sight. The motel room was completely trashed. The table was broken against the floor, the wallpaper was shredded. The bathroom door hung by one hinge, swinging gently in the breeze let in by the broken window. Both of the bags were ripped open, their clothes flung everywhere. Dean's eyes flew across the room, gasping as he realized what was the most important problem with the room was.

Sam was gone.

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Slowly, Sam Winchester opened his eyes. His head was hung down, giving him the view of his lap and arms. He knew he was no longer in the motel room and that instead of lying down, he was now sitting in a chair. Despite there being nothing holding Sam to the chair, he still felt an odd obligation to stay seated. _That's…weird._

"Hello Sammy."

With a jerk, Sam lifted his head. Two yellow eyes stared back.

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_So you like? Does this seem interesting? Major cliffhanger, I know. This might sound like the same story a lot of writers have done, but I promise it's not. The next chapter is going to dive right into the story and this will be a very short one. Maybe only 4 or 5 chapters unless the plot bunny grabs my laptop and decides to run with the story. Please R&R if you want to read the rest. Salt and Burn, Baby!_


	2. Controntation is an Ugly Thing

**The Beacon**

Disclaimer: If I actually got sued over this story, then something is very wrong with the world. It's Kripke's sandbox; I'm just borrowing some of the toys. I'll put them right back, I promise.

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Chapter 2: Confrontation is an Ugly Thing

_Author's Note: I know I haven't updated any of my stories in several months, but that's what happens when life gets in the way. So here's the next chapter and the next one is already written. I just have to proof read and work on my other stories evenly. So I hope you enjoy, although there isn't any action in this one. Please please please R&R._

_**Then:**_

_Slowly, Sam Winchester opened his eyes. His head was hung down, giving him the view of his lap and arms. He knew he was no longer in the motel room and that instead of lying down, he was now sitting in a chair. Despite there being nothing holding Sam to the chair, he still felt an odd obligation to stay seated. That's…weird._

"_Hello Sammy."_

_With a jerk, Sam lifted his head. Two yellow eyes stared back._

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_**Now:**_

Bea-con **bee**-k_uh_n -noun

1. A guiding or warning signal, as a light or fire, esp. one in an elevated position.

Sam stared up, his own eyes widening in fear.

The Demon. THE Demon was standing in front of him. Smiling. All need to stay seated in the chair disappeared and in a second, Sam was up. The silver handled, thrice blessed knife slid into his palm from his hidden strap on his forearm. Faster than he would have thought possible, Sam whipped his hand up, slicing the blade across the demon's chest, releasing a black billowing smoke.

At least that was the plan. Sam glanced down as his now unmoving body, which was caught somewhere between sitting and standing.

"Now, now Sammy. Let's be a good boy and do what you're told."

Sam sneered up at the demon, taking in its appearance this time. This time around, it had chosen the body of a middle aged man, probably close to John's age. The man was dressed in a simple collared shirt and jeans. The only unnatural part of him was the yellow eyes, which was where Sam was now focusing.

"Screw you." Sam could feel the sweat trickling down his back, his thigh muscles beginning to scream with the effort of keeping himself half standing, half sitting. He clenched his jaw ass the man leaned toward his face.

"I'm sure you're having buckets of fun, Sammy boy. But this could be a long talk and I want you conscious. Get comfortable."

Sam let out a groan as he felt a push hit his chest, forcing him back into the chair. As he sat, a feeling of complete obligation washed over his body, making all his muscles go loose. _I shouldn't fight it. Sitting here is so much easier._ Sam blinked lazily, losing focus on the dark room. Dimly, he could hear the demon hiss.

"Sean, control yourself."

With a gasp, Sam felt his attention snap back, forcing the whispering voice out of his mind. With a low growl, he pushed harder against the voice. Again, the urge to sit faded.

The demon watched with amusement, cocking his head at Sam's efforts.

"Fine. Be difficult." With that, ropes sprang to Sam's arms, wrapping themselves around his wrists and legs, effectively keeping him seated. Sam raised his head as the voice left his mind completely. With his head finally clear of influence, Sam pulled slightly at the ropes.

"Fuck" he muttered, realizing his chance to escape had thoroughly passed.

"Language Sam-boy" the demon smiled. "We have children present."

For the first time since waking, Sam focused on his surroundings. He was in a circular room, doors evenly spaced every few feet. Sam blinked as he stared at the wall, barely able to keep in his gasp of surprise. The walls were indescribable. Just when he thought he knew what it looked like, it would remold and change, easily flowing from stone to marble to wallpaper and continuing on.

But even the unbelievably unnatural wall was not what held Sam's attention. The dozen people standing around the room did. Most appeared around his age, although there were one or two older people who seemed in their mid-forties. A few adults even held a baby each. And every one of them stared back at Sam. Even the babies. _This is way too creepy._

Sam tore his eyes away from them all, focusing again on the demon. "Where am I?"

The demon smiled, spreading his arms wide. "You are home."

Sam gave a sarcastic smile. "No thanks. I prefer a room that doesn't make me seasick."

"Oh yeah… that." The demon rolled his eyes, giving a small laugh. "I never was one for theatrics." The demon paused, a smile crossing his face. "Well, most of the time anyway. I did love having that long chat with you boys in the cabin last year. But that was just too perfect a moment to pass up."

"What do you want?" Sam clenched his teeth.

"I want my children" the demon grinned, a hint of surprise in its voice. "And you were the key to finding them all. I wanted to thank you for that."

"What, for helping Max kill himself? For Andy killing his brother?" Sam spat out.

"No, no, no, no, Sam" the demon sighed. "I wanted to thank you by finally bringing you home. How else would you find out why I chose you? Why you had visions of the other children. Why you were nearly beaten to death outside of the Sunrise Apartments."

Sam looked up, his lips parting in surprise.

The demon gave a small laugh at his reaction. "But we'll get to that later." The demon took a step around to Sam's side, leaning down to his ear. Sam barely held back a shudder at the chill of its breath on his neck.

"Is the anticipation running thru your veins yet, Sammy? That need to know if you would turn evil? That need has been eating away inside you; inside your brother.

"Don't talk about my brother" Sam growled. "He's gonna send you back into hell, you sonofabitch."

"You first, Sammy." The demon stood straight again, grinning at the others standing in the room walking in a circle around the trapped hunter. "After all, we're connected now; Demons and humans. You especially, Sammy."

The young man starred back into the demon's face. "It's Sam."

He barked out a laugh. "That's a good one, Sam. But I think it's time you know what is so special about you. The suspense is killing me. I can't wait to see your reaction."

The demon stopped, facing Sam head on. It's eyes burned yellow once more. "You know, I am very happy I know how to describe you, Sam. For most of my children, they don't get a position, not even a name. But you are different. You are my lieutenant. You, Sam, are my beacon.

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_Author's Note: So you like? It's not my best, but I had to get it out of my system. Please review cause I haven't gotten any in a long time and I need the inspiration. Thanks so much. Salt and Burn, Baby!_


	3. History Repeats Itself

The Beacon

Summary: Sam finally discovers the demon's plans. In the end, will Dean save him or hunt him?

Disclaimer: If I actually got sued over this story, then something is very wrong with the world. It's Kripke's sandbox; I'm just borrowing some of the toys. I'll put them right back, I promise.

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Chapter Three: History Repeats Itself

_**Then:**_

_He barked out a laugh. "That's a good one, Sam. But I think it's time you know what is so special about you. The suspense is killing me. I can't wait to see your reaction."_

_The demon stopped, facing Sam head on. It's eyes burned yellow once more. "You know, I __am very happy I know how to describe you, Sam. For most of my children, they don't get a position, not even a name. But you are different. You are my lieutenant. You, Sam, are my beacon._

_**Now**_

Dean leaped out of the bed, ignoring the glass sticking out of the carpet. Immediately, Dean registered a few things. First, there was no blood. That could mean several things; that Sam wasn't physically injured, at least not in a way that could lead to him bleeding out. Or that Sam hadn't been able to get in enough of a fight to even draw blood from his attacker. Second, nothing was touched. Well, other than the complete wreck that the room was now. But the bag of weapons they always had stashed between the beds, Dean's knife under his pillow, or the .45 Sam had recently gotten into the habit of putting in the bedside table.

_Guess they weren't after the big guns. Just Sam._ Dean ran to the bathroom, knowing the chances of Sam being in there were less than 0. But still he had to check. Nothing. Damn it.

Dean paused, running his hands over his face. _Okay Dean. Just think. Sam's been gone before. I just need to think. I can figure this out._ Dean froze. _How could I miss that? _Dean closed his eyes, knowing how much worse the situation was now. The smell of sulfur twisted in the air, taunting the hunter.

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The demon's smile grew wider, it's teeth shining. "You found my children for me, Sam. Just when they were turning, you would have a vision of them, yes?" The demon wasn't asking.

"No." Sam muttered. He gave a small shake of his head, refusing to accept it. _I did not do that._ "No, I wouldn't. You couldn't have known what I saw. They are my visions."

"Oh, Sam. Did you ever wonder why your vision always hurt you so much? Why Max didn't feel any pain? How Andy and Webber wouldn't get headaches unless they over used their mind control?" The demon wagged his finger back and forth, like he was scolding a young child. "Shame on you for not figuring it out. That pain you have been so kind to endure has been the link. Your mind was linking itself to me, letting me see what you saw."

The demon gave a chuckle. "Can you believe how pleased I was? How amazed I was to see Max as you saw him? I honestly did not think you would have been able to link up to me on your second vision. Very unexpected. And just in time too. Just was I was needed to intervene."

Sam sat, slowing shaking his head. His eyes were wide, almost in shock. "I… I _helped_ you?! I told you when they were…"

"Ready, Sammy. When they were ready for me to… well, pick them up, for lack of a better phrase. But let me tell you, I was not happy to find you took it upon yourself to go to my children. And try to save them from their passage. You stole a few good soldiers from me, Sam. Max. Webber."

"They were killing people" Sam spat out.

"And now their souls are burning in hell instead of being alive, here on earth. Fulfilling their destiny." The demon sighed. "And it's all thanks to you."

Sam turned his head away, or at least as far as he could while tied to the chair.

"But enough chit chat. I think it's time for you to make a few acquaintances. I'll start with someone you might remember."

The demon stopped next to the young hunter, reaching out its hand to someone beyond Sam's vision. A figure walked in front of Sam, giggling into her hand as Sam gasped in surprise.

"Ava!"

"Hey Sam. Nice to see you again." The girl smiled, showing her trademark goofiness.

"Ava, we have to get out of here. We aren't safe…" Sam's voice trailed off as he stared into her eyes and her smile registered. He let out a sigh, his head dropping slightly. "He already got to you, didn't he?"

Ava grin grew wider. "He? He who?"

"That fucking demon!" Sam shouted, practically lunging out of the chair. He could feel the energy of the room hum, almost like it was responding to his outburst.

A flicker of fear passed across Ava's face. She immediately stepped back into the shadows, other people placing themselves between her and Sam.

"Now now, Sam. Be nice to Ava." The demon stepped back in front of Sam, leaning in. "She was kind enough to show me where you were tonight. All ready to be picked up and brought into the family." The demon smiled slyly. "She's quickly becoming my new favorite."

"Oh, I hurt." Sam rolled his eyes, the sarcasm practically dripping. "I thought we had something special."

The demon barked out a laugh. The room filled with slight laugher from the others in the room. "Oh Sam. I forgot. You haven't been processed yet." He slid down, placing its hands on Sam's knees. Sam tensed himself, willing his legs not to tremble at the cold touch.

"You remember my boy, don't you? My son, who had the misfortune of being quite jealous of you, if I recall. It was his ultimate downfall, I'm afraid."

"If I recall, Dean was his downfall. Killed him pretty easily too." Sam smiled. "It must have been hard, sitting in my dad's body, watching Dean shoot him in the head. And you, unable to do anything without revealing who you really were."

The demon brought its face closer to Sam's, stopping barely an inch from his nose. It lowered its voice to a whisper. "Actually, it wasn't hard. Not hard at all. Watch!"

Without warning, the demon grasped Sam's head with both its hands. Pain instantly flared across Sam's head, light blinding his eyes. Opening his mouth in a silent scream, the hunter squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, willing himself to pass out if only to make the pain stop.

And then, it was gone. With as gasp, Sam opened his eyes. He wasn't sitting anymore. In fact, he wasn't in the room anymore. Now he was standing on a street corner, the sun shinning brightly on his face. He gave a laugh of disbelief.

"Now this can't be real." Sam muttered. Quickly, he scanned the area, checking for anyone who could have seen him appear. He frowned, looking again at the buildings around him. "This seems familiar."

Suddenly, he heard a grunt of someone being hit. Quickly, Sam turned the corner, but stopped short at the sight in front of him. "No way."

Sam's eyes grew wide as he watched himself being beaten in the face, the demon's son sitting on top of him. Sam saw Dean and John in the corner of his eye crouching in front of the building all three had just climbed down from.

Sam's jaw went slack as he recognized the scene in front of him. It had only been a year after all. "Talk about déjà vu" Sam whispered.

The young hunter stared at himself, wincing at the memory of the pain caused by the punches. But he frowned. There was something different this time. Now he could hear someone shouting.

_You bastard! I was here first. It was suppose to be me. He wants me to lead._

It wasn't loud, but more like it was coming from far away, or under a heavy blanket. Even though Sam had never heard the man's voice, he knew without a doubt he was hearing the thoughts of the Demon's Son.

_Why are you so special? You are only a boy. Not even fully human! I am his favorite! I will stay with him! You will never-_

The voice cut off. A feeling of surprise and pain flowed over Sam. His ears rang with the after affects of the gunshot. Sam watched the body as it fell, a wisp of smoke escaping the boy's mouth with a small cry of pain as the demon felt itself die.

Everything began to fade and blur. Sam let out a gasp, sucking in air as he was pulled back into the room. When he finally caught his breath, the young hunter looked up, finding the yellow-eyed demon smiling down.

"You understand now, Sam? The boy of mine was quite a pistol. Very jealous of you and how you played in my plans."

"To be honest." Sam wheezed, "I wouldn't mind handing the position over."

The room rippled with laughter. "Nope. Sorry Sam-boy. This position has been yours for millennia. No getting out of it. John knew it, too. And Dean." Sam froze, his breathing all but stopping. The Demon grinned, enjoying Sam's reaction. "Oh yes, Sam. Your brother, who you are so sure will save you from me, knows that you can't be. It was written and who am I deny fate?"

Someone behind Sam coughed, followed by a quiet shuffling. The demon glanced up and nodded. "And now Sam, it is time for you to join my family. For you to finally gain your inheritance."

Sam's mouth dropped open, giving a small laugh of disbelief. "Wait, what? You can't… what the hell are you talking about? What the fuck was written? And no offence, but what the hell kind of transition was that?! You can't say I have a fate and then just-"

"Shut up, Sam."

The demon's eyes flashed, the yellow spreading across the calm brown. Faster than Sam would have thought, the demon reached around behind him. All Sam saw was a flash of metal before a sharp pain flooded his arm. Sam's eyes widened, his voice catching in his throat as blood slowly seeped out of the cut running the length of his arm. He let out a short hiss, fighting the urge to show any other reaction to the pain.

Sam turned his eyes up at the Yellow Eyed Demon, shooting defiance out of his hazel ones. "Is that… all you got? Sam let out a laugh, biting back a scream as the pain suddenly increased.

"I said, stop talking, Sam." The demon stared intently at Sam's arm, watching the skin slowly pull apart, the blood flowing out of the wound.

Sam let out a gasp of pain, watching his lap turn red. "Stop… please stop…"

The Demon lifted his eyes, staring into Sam's, which were beginning to glaze over with pain.

"Don't worry Sam." The Demon took a step forward, kneeling down in front of the young hunter. "It will be over soon." With a flash of yellow, the Demon leaned forward, putting his lips to the cut and began to suck. Between his pulsing lips, black smoke slowly trickled over Sam's arm before thrusting itself into the open wound.

The room filled with Sam's scream.

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_Author's Note: Cue the dramatic music, right? Hehehe. Hope you guys liked the chapter. This is turning into a much longer story than I had originally planned. BTW, I know Dean told Sam what John had said to him in IMToD, but I have something planned for that, so don't worry. Please review cause it keeps me inspired. Salt and Burn, baby!_


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